


House of Baratheon

by StarsAreMassive



Series: Join Our Houses [7]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: AU, F/M, Forgie, People seriously need to stop touching pregnant women's bellies without their permission, Pregnant Arya, Seriously that's all this story is, Team Arya
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-14
Updated: 2020-01-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:08:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22259227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarsAreMassive/pseuds/StarsAreMassive
Summary: For a House that was a breath away from extinction, the Baratheons excelled at one thing.
Relationships: Arya Stark & Ned Dayne, Arya Stark/Gendry Waters
Series: Join Our Houses [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1292831
Comments: 13
Kudos: 237





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> From a prompt I received on tumblr.  
> Transporting over from fanfiction.net

Arya thought it must have been some unwritten law of the Seven kingdoms that Baratheons were the most prolific procreators in Westeros.

Fucking _Gendry_.

She never forgot to take her moon tea. Ever. Even when they were in the midst of a war, she had a steady supply so that she and Gendry never had to deal with the consequences of their passions. But that one time, the _one_ time she had forgotten, and Gendry had been standing _just so_ in the light of the forge, and well – here they were.

The Maester Tarly had confirmed her suspicions, and after solemnly vowing to keep the news to himself (she may have threatened to wear his face, if he didn't. Jon would never let her of course, but _he_ didn't need to know that) she made her way to the forge.

It was early. There had been a feast the night before and she knew that Gendry – soft touch that he was – would have let the other smithies working under him sleep in for an hour or two. Sure enough, when she rounded the door, there he stood, all alone in his black leather apron, stoking the fires to life and looking as content as she'd ever seen him.

Gods, he made her smile like an idiot. It was embarrassing.

She kicked a stone and Gendry's head shot up and his eyes caught hers. "Arry. You're early."

She hummed. "I had a commitment to keep. I thought I would come keep you company."

Gendry, apparently, had stumbled across one of his rare moments of insight. "With the Maester?" Because who else would she be meeting before the sun had fully risen above the horizon.

"Yes."

He set him hammer on the anvil, stoked the fires some more, and stepped closer, crossing him arms over his chest. "Sore head from last night?" he smiled gently.

"Not quite."

"Well. That's enlightening."

She snorted and he huffed, and he went back to setting up his forge for today as she slowly trailed after him.

"Other husbands would show a little more concern," she said teasingly.

Gendry laughed. "Which is exactly why you married me, m'lady."

And gods if this babe wasn't unsettling her already, because suddenly she felt a prickling behind her eyes and an overwhelming need to embrace him. Instead, she said, "Foolish on my part, really."

Gendry grinned at her. "You can't undo what's been done. I'm yours now – for all days. Poor luck, Arry girl."

She watched him with a smile on her lips for a few moments, before the nerves bubbling in her belly compelled her to speak. "I suppose I should tell you, really."

Blue eyes flicked to her, thick brows creased slightly as he tried to temper concern he knew she wouldn't appreciate. "You should?"

"Yes. You see – I think Eddard is a wonderful name. I won't hear a word against it. But you can pick your favourite girl's name."

Gendry simply stood, confused. "Well, okay," he said, slowly. "And why do I need to pick my favourite girl's name."

Arya huffed, and sat heavily on an unused anvil. "Gods you are slow sometimes. I hope they don't have your mind."

_"Who - ?"_

Arya lurched forward, grabbed his thick wrist and yanked it. She stared him in the eyes, a storm of grey and blue as she slowly, deliberately, brought it to rest on her belly.

By instinct, his thumb started to stroke her gently, but no comprehension lit his eyes. Arya lifted her other hand and thwacked him behind the head, pressing his hand more urgently on her.

"Gods Arya – stop hitting me. Use your words, you stupid little highbor-"

_Ah. There it was._

Gendry stilled. His breathe held trapped in his broad chest. His eyes were fixed on his hand. Arya was fairly sure his heart had stopped beating. Until slowly, gently, his grasp tightened on her stomach.

"Arry," he choked. "Arry. Are you – is the Maester – are you _sure?_ "

"I would not tease you. Not about this."

Not about something he'd wanted so desperately but had convinced himself he couldn't have. Not if he was with her, and he'd made if perfectly clear that she was what he wanted above everything.

"I – Arya, we're having a child? You're with _child_?"

"We are."

And it was like fire had entered his veins. Gendry plucked her from the ground and clutched her two him in both arms. He spun her around and she wrapped her legs around him for purchase, and gods, she even laughed, breathless with pleasure at how _happy_ she had made him. After everything they had been through, from the King's Road to beyond the Wall, she'd finally been able to give him something he had always wanted.

"A family, Arya," he breathed, wet and delirious in her ear. "We're going to have a family. A girl! I want it to be a girl – a little you. Gods that would be perfect –"

"Oh, I don't know," she hummed as Gendry set her back on the anvil. "I wouldn't mind another stubborn, bull-headed boy running around here. I've gotten quite skilled at keeping them in hand."


	2. Chapter 2

Gendry had to confiscate Needle from her after her seventh moon. 

She’d been surprised really, how calm Gendry had been about her continued love of weaponry and skirmishing after she’d told him about the babe. She’d fully expected him to make some frantic attempt to ban her from any and all duties that could pose even the slightest risk to their child. But he’d never said a word whenever he saw her training Winterfell’s guard. Not so much as a crease marred his brow when she dabbed a warm cloth over bruises on her arms and legs. Sh’ed gotten so tense, just waiting for him to say something, that one evening over a bow of stew she’d thrown her spoon at his head and demanded answers.

He’d just chuckled and plucked a piece of carrot from his hair and said, _“That babe is another member of your pack, Arry. You are the last person who would ever risk anything happen to it. No matter what anyone else thinks, I know you better.”_

And for the most part, Gendry had even been able to keep the worst of Jon and Sansa’s fussing at bay, too. Jon still glared at her like he was equal parts exasperated, terrified, and amused; and Sansa would sometimes find a way to fill her days with mundane errands to run on behalf of _Lady Stark_ , but overall, Arya was allowed to act more or less as she always had. Just, with a little more self-imposed caution. 

The biggest surprise however, was far more unwelcome. As her belly grew, and it became increasingly clear that the child was going to take after their father’s blood in size, Arya couldn’t help but notice that more and more people were finding excuses to _touch_ her. 

At first they were just fleeting touches, Fingertips to her stomach as visiting lords and ladies stepped by her. An affectionate pat on her, quite frankly, largest appendage at this point, when she’d delivered a brace of rabbits to an elder woman who’s husband had died not a few weeks prior. Arya certainly wasn’t pleased about it, but she wasn’t about to draw blood over it. 

Not yet anyway. She’d promised Sansa she’d behave until the baby was born. 

But then things got a little stranger, and a lot more uncomfortable. 

Ned Dayne had turned up outside the gates - she’d forgotten that Jon had invited the Lord of Starfall to talk trade - and as a greeting to his old friend, he’d ducked down and firmly grasped her belly, planting a kiss on it before whisking away to greet Jon and Sansa. 

She had firmly refused to tell Gendry about that one. 

Women she had never seen before poked and prodded at her. Tried to slip their hands down her breeches, held their hands over her for minutes on end, _“Oh just to feel it kick, Lady Arya. Such a joy.”_

One woman had begun stroking Arya’s belly after cornering her in her rarely used solar, after Sansa had ordered the dressmaker to fit her for more clothes. Arya was stunned stupid, her anger choking her and keeping her biting words at bay and clenching her fists and grinding her teeth, and _“Do you want to keep that fucking hand? I’ll slice it off if you don’t remove it!”_

She’d remembered herself then, and who she was, and had drawn Needle from her belt in the blink of and eye, and lunged forward to press it against she bitch’s throat and - 

Gendry had grabbed her wrist (he knew better than to try and take it from her) and kept her still, though seething, whilst the terrified woman fled from the room. 

She was shaking and furious when he had gently turned her to face him. 

“Why in the seven _hells_ is everyone pawing at me?!”

“Arya -”

“Do they want me to prick them full of holes. Because I fucking _will_.”

Gendry slipped his grip to hold onto Needle tighter. “Why don’t you let me look after Needle for now, hmm?”

“No.”

He gave a fondly exasperated sigh. “You can’t go cutting up everyone who’s excited about the baby.”

“Not everyone. Not you, or my siblings, or - or Sam -”

“He needs to deliver her, Arya -”

“But anyone else - who thinks they can just touch me wherever they like without so much as a by your leave? Last I checked I was still Captain of the Wolf Guard. What if it were Brienne - or Clegane. What if everyone started touching up Clegane?!”

“Then we’d be cleaning up a trail of bodies, I’m sure.”

“Fucking right we would.”

“You _are_ in a foul mood.”

“Just - I need to hit something,” she sulked. “I’m not allowed to train and even if I was I’d bloody well fall over, and everyone is just _stupid_ and making me furious and acting like idiots - _Ned!_ Did you know Ned is here?”

Gendry’s face darkened. “Yes. Managed to hear the fact a few hundred times, thanks.”

“The idiot kissed me. Right on the belly! I’m telling you Gendry, babies turn people mad.”

Arya may have missed the way Gendry’s jaw tightened and his eyes sparked, but she didn’t miss the low gravel of his voice when he said, “Need to hit something do you?”

She turned to him gleefully. “It’s because he’s Ned, isn’t it? He’s our friend, you know.”

Gendry scoffed. “He’s yours. And he put hands on my wife and child that weren’t asked for. Think that warrants a punch in the face if nothing else.”

Arya grinned wolfishly. “He’s too kind to hold it against me for too long.”

Gendry smirked and held her closer. “And Jon can’t be mad at you, if you do it. You are with child, after all.”

Triumphant, Arya span on her heel and started to stride from the room, fully prepared to teach overfriendly lordlings some rules about _boundaries_ , when her wrist twinged as it was twisted, and for the first time in years, she saw Needle ripped from her grasp. 

“I’m still keeping Needle,” Gendry threatened. “Apparently women go wild in their last couple of moons, and there’s a very real risk of you murdering someone if I don’t hide it.”

Arya was torn. Behind her was Gendry holding a sword she was in no way prepared to give up for anyone - even him. In front of her, was a corridor that would take her to Ned, a public spectacle, and an end to all this foolish nonsense about clawing at her belly and _petting_ her. 

She grumbled, cursed, spat, but acquiesced. “Fine! But the second this babe is born, Gendry -”

“Then I will re-arm you myself, m’lady.”


End file.
